


The Complex, Delicate, Interpersonal Relationships Of Three Teenage Boys

by Sourstarbursts



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1990s, ADHD, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Depression, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prom, The whole shabang, Unrequited Love, happy ending for some and not others, headcanons galore, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourstarbursts/pseuds/Sourstarbursts
Summary: Growing up is hard, it’s harder when you fall in love with one of your same sex best friends. It’s even harder when he’s in love with one of your other friends.Stan, Richie, Eddie and their emotions that span over the course of their adolescence.I apologize stozier warriors.





	1. My Friends Never Found Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) so I decided to put all my fics from this series in one big cohesive linear fic so it’s more understandable!! Also edited most of the chapters cuz I’ve caught several mistakes 😳✌🏻

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song ‘Trees’ by Mcaffety!! 
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Richie’s POV from this series 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5Q56inkD7z4lkA7SExA0TC?si=FSBcR-RTSHi_LOR9Y24bcg

It became a tradition for the losers. That if one of them had a really bad day, they’d all try their hardest to drop everything they were doing that night and hang out at the club house. 

The meeting was called earlier that morning after Ben was feeling particularly shitty after an altercation with Bowers. Bill had found him crying in the boys bathroom during second period. He told all the losers that they would be meeting tonight on Ben’s behalf.

It was about 11 pm when Richie threw his backpack out his window, and climbed down the side of the Tozier’s home. He was very lucky his parents bedroom was on the other side of the house. If Maggie and Went found out their son was sneaking out of the house at eleven on a school night, they’d probably sell his new Nintendo 64 he just got for his fourteenth birthday and ground him for two months.

He left his bike in the driveway- justin case his dad decided to take out the trash before he went to bed- and Richie walked instead.

——

When he arrived at the club house everyone was already there, sitting on the quilts and pillows laid out on the ground. They passed around a bag of chips and a bowl of guacamole, chatting as they ate. Ben was leaned into Bev’s shoulder as she rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Y-you’re fifteen minutes l-late.” Bill stated as Richie climbed down the ladder.

“Not my fault my house is in assfuck nowhere, we can’t all be blessed to live by the club house!” Richie said, throwing his backpack down next to Eddie and sitting down. Just seeing the sight of the boy’s face made Richie breakout in a grin so wide it would start to hurt his cheeks. Richie didn’t understand why Eddie’s cute little pout made him so inexplicably happy.

Eddie met his gaze, trying his hardest to put on his “Really Richie? Fifteen minutes late?” Face. But once he saw Richie’s dopey smile, the corners of his mouth start to turn up.

“Just be glad we didn’t lock the door and have you sleep out in the cold.” Stan remarked.

“Well it's cold in here too so it wouldn’t be too different.” Richie said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, “Plus, you’d miss me too much Stanley! Me and my sweet luscious lips.” Richie leaned over to Stan making kissy faces.

“Come any closer to me and I’ll punch you in your sweet, luscious lips.” Stan spat, pushing a laughing Richie back.

“So they are luscious.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Richie then turned towards Eddie.

“Speaking of sweet, hows my precious Eds doing?”

“Shut the fuck up, we were in the middle of a game.”

“Ooo, what game?” Richie turned to the rest of the group.

“Would you rather.” Bev answered.

“Oh fuck yeah! I'm the best at this bitch I win every time.”

“You can't win at would you rather.” Mike laughed.

“Not with that attitude.” Richie grinned.

“Bill, its was your turn before Richie rudely interrupted.” Eddie says.

“Rudely?! All I did was show up!”

“Your face is rude.” Stan.

“Bill, goooo.” Bev groaned.

“O-okay. Mike, would you r-rather eat a can of live w-w-orms, or live roaches?”

Mike grimaced thinking about both of those scenarios. After debating in his head he comes to the conclusion:

“Roaches. Way less slimy. Plus, my Aunt said she once had a lollipop with a cricket in it when she visited Australia and she said it wasn’t that bad. Crickets probably taste the same as roaches, right?” Mike answered.

“I’d eat both, I wouldn’t even have to be asked.” Bev said. Richie groans, he had been fully content with going the entire day without being reminded that Bev would eat bugs as a kid and enjoyed it. 

“Dude, fucking gross.” Eddie made a disgusted face. Ben laughed, not being grossed out in the slightest since he used to eat spoonfuls of dirt as a kid. God, they really were perfect for each other.

“Mike, your t-turn now!” Bill laughed.

“Oh god, okay let's see.” Mike pondered, trying to think of the best possible question.

“Okay. Bev, if you had to; would you rather… marry Stan or Eddie.” Mike asked. Bev laughed at both of those ideas.

“Ouch!” Eddie and Stan said at the same time, smiling none of the less.

“If I HAD, to pick… Stan. By a long shot.” Bev stated. Stan laughed and pumped his fist.

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, offended.

“What?!” Richie exclaimed, offended on Eddies behalf.

“Eddie, I love you my dear, but I don’t think I’d be able to put up with how loud you are allllll the time.” Bev said.

“That’s what makes Eddie the correct choice! Because he’s so loud all the time.” Richie defended.

“I’m not loud all the time, oh my god how am I loud at all! I’m probably one of the most quiet ones here!” Eddie yelled.

“S-So R-Rich, if you had to marry Eddie or Stan, you’d pick Eddie?” Bill smirked.

Richie face turned a deep shade of red, “quick,” Richie thought, “start talking so they don’t notice!!”

“Well yeah of course! It would probably be way more exciting listening to Eddie yell about whatever he’s yelling about then to sit through Stan’s knot tying monologues for the rest of my years!” Richie laughed, eyes darting back and forth across the losers faces. His eyes land on Stan, who currently looks like he’s just been slapped across the face. Fuck. Was that mean? Richie could never tell when he crossed the line.

Before Richie could do any sort of damage control, Mike swooped in for him.

“Yeah but Stan’s knot tying knowledge might come in handy one day!” He said throwing an arm over Stan’s shoulder. Stan seemed unfazed by this, still stuck in the hurt that Richie’s comment caused him. Fuck.

——

The game quickly moved on from that. The losers asking each other both disgusting and bizarre would you rather questions. It would move on from that to a game of “fuck, marry, kill” ONLY including their school teachers. Mike was very confused throughout that whole portion of the night.

It was going great, before truth or dare that is.

“Handsome Hanscom! Truth or dare!” Eddie declared after he just spilled the beans on why he had to be picked up early on their first grade field trip to the zoo. Apparently he got so scared of the giraffes he had peed himself, hilarious. Richie had to make sure he remembered that next time the two of them went to the zoo together.

“Truth.” Ben picked. Richie groaned.

“God. All of you are on some pussy shit I swear.”

“When did you first realized you liked Bev?” Eddie asked, in that oooy-gooey voice he got when talking about romance. Eddie didn’t show it to too many people, but he was a romantic at heart. When even when watching movies that didn’t interest him, Eddie still was able to find pleasure in the romantic subplots. Richie often would hear the faintest of sighs from Eddie in the movie theater when the handsome charming man character would sweep the lady character off her feet.

“Ewwwww.” Richie deadpanned.

“It’s kind of dumb but… we were in class and I asked her if she had a pencil I could use. She checked in her pockets and without looking she handed me a lipgloss thinking it was a pencil. Then she went back to her work, not realizing she gave me a lip gloss. I don’t know why but I instantly knew I liked her. She was just so....” Bev groaned, but was blushing none of the less.

“Stupid?” She finished for him.

“Lovably stupid.” Ben grins.

Richie groaned again. “God, please make it stop!!! I hate them for being happy!!! Well I don’t hate them for being happy, I just hate them for showing me that they’re happy!” Richie’s brain yelled.

“Richie’s just jealous Ben is closer to marrying Bev than he is to marrying Eddie.” Stan quips. Richie didn’t understand what made that statement hurt on multiple different levels, multiple different levels that Richie couldn’t name. He guessed him and Stan were even now.

The other losers laugh, except him and Eddie. Logic tells Richie, “They don’t mean anything by this, it’s just a joke to them.” But whatever chemical in his body that makes his whole being burn with shame tells him otherwise. Better distract the attention away from himself. He has an idea.

“Ugh, okay, okay, shut up. Ben please let me use your turn. I am bursting to the brim with truths and dares I can use.” Richie pleads.

“Okay fine, I have no ideas for truths or dares anyways.”

“Yes! Thank you Ben you are my world!” Richie sings. “Hmm. Bill. Truth or dare?”

“D-dare. I’m n-ot o-o-on that p-pussy shit.” Bill says, which sounds pretty funny with his soft spoken stuttering voice.

“I dare you to kiss one of the boys here.” Richie smirks. “Who’s gay now?!” Richie’s brain shouts.

Bill blushes slightly, rolling his eyes. The other losers laugh. Richie feels very proud of his 14 year old brain for coming up with that one.

“C-can I o-opt out?” Bill asks.

“You could do that, but you will be known as the biggest pussy of all history. Turning down a dare can have a long lasting effect on your life. It can even damage your credit score.” Richie explains.

“Wh-wh-what’s a c-credit score?” Bill asks, genuinely confused.

“I don’t know but I know if you pull this pussy shit Bill, it will be damaged.”

Bill groans. “F-fine. I’ll do it. J-just because you’ll probably a-annoy me f-for the rest of m-m-my life if I don’t.”

Richie smiles. “Good choice, now which pair of lips will you get macking on?”

Bill turns to Mike. Mike fake gasps.

“Lil ol’ me? I’m flattered!”

“L-lets get this over w-with.” Bill rolls his eyes.

Mike puckers up. Bill sighs and pecks him. The other losers begin hooting and hollering.

“That was a mighty fine kiss.” Mike smiles. Bill blushes and looks away.

“O-okay. Richie. Truth or d-dare.”

“Um. You can’t pick me I just went!”

Bill turns to Stan, who is the supreme justice for all games they play. Stan kept everyone in check, making sure the games don’t get out of hand and people weren’t cheating.

“I’ll allow it.” Stan decides. Maybe it's even more payback for whatever Richie said that hurt his feelings earlier. What did he even say again? He has no fucking idea.

Richie groans. Fine, whatever.

“Dare.” He says, dare as always.

“I d-dare you t-to kiss Eddie.”

Oh no. Richie totally forgot his actions have consequences.

Dread like no other floods over him. When he’s older Richie would describe this experience as being the second scariest moment of his life. This moment being not too far behind the time Bowers cornered him in the alleyway next to the arcade and had beaten him within an inch of his life.

Richie’s eyes went to Eddie’s next to him. Eddie’s head was lowered to hide his blazing red face.

“Are you gonna do it Richie or are you on that pussy shit?” Bev laughed.

“Uh… yeah. I- yeah I guess. If Eddie will do it.” Richie stammers.

There’s silence as all the losers anticipates Eddie’s response.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Bev, Ben, Bill, and Mike cheer. Richie wants to fucking die.

He lets out a breath, and clenches his eyes. “You can do this, it's a kiss. Bill and Mike did it. They were fine. It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.” He reasons to himself.

He turns to Eddie. The boys big brown eyes are already staring up at him. With furrowed brows and blushing cheeks, Richie leans in.

In an instant, Richie knew he’d never be able to go back.

The rush he felt when pretty boys at the arcade would ask him if he wanted to play against them in one of the two player games. He was able to look past it.

The longing glances to the book ‘Maurice’ that he’d seen on the shelf in the library. How he had picked it up, read the back, and threw it back down like it had burned him. He’d thought about it for the next two weeks, unable to distract his mind from anything other than the thought of that book. He was able to look past it.

Even the Playgirl that he stole from his older sisters room as he was trying to steal her money that she hid in her sock drawer. How it's currently shoved under his mattress in his room right now. He was able to look past that.

But as he felt Eddies lips pressed against his, and the feeling of his jackhammer heart inside his chest. He knows he won’t be able to look back, that there isn’t a way he can still find it in himself to think that he’s straight.

That there isn’t a way that he can still find it in himself to think that he’s not in love with Eddie.

Richie sits back on his heels. The kiss lasted for one second but it somehow caused Richie to allow himself to feel something other then dread more in that one second then he has since he started hitting puberty.

“Are you guys happy now?” Eddie asks annoyed. The other losers continue to laugh while nodding their heads.

And there’s that shame he had, it left for a solid one second but now its back. Itching its way up the back of his neck.

This is a joke. You’re a joke. You’re ridiculous for kissing a boy. You’re disgusting for enjoying it.


	2. And I’m Not Your Sacred Dove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title if from the song ‘Grime’ by Linying! Go check it out it’s what inspired this whole series 
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Stan’s POV includes this song
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5nSJdUQLEJyzjjL8UFuQfH?si=hsvhmqOGS3GhejGlnIF7fQ

There are some moments, when he is with all his friends, Stanley Uris can forget. Just for the briefest moment, he can distract himself from his own wandering eyes and that sick feeling deep in his gut. He can feel his shoulders untense, and laugh along with his friends.  
Other times Stan gives into those wandering eyes, and that sick feeling in his gut is the only thing he can think about.

“Stan?” Bill puts his hand on his shoulder. Stan jumps up at the sudden movement, causing Bill to move, like Stan somehow just burned him.

“Oh! Uh, sorry. I was spacing out. Again.”

Bill smiled softly.

The two boys were currently in class working on their English project. Everyone was partnered up, him with Bill, Ben with another boy from their grade, and Richie with Eddie.

These pairs were not surprising, it was a given that if there was a partner project; Richie would work with Eddie.

Stan watched the two boys in front of him, with their desks pressed up against each other. As they bicker over absolutely nothing. Eddies fast paced talking, hands gesturing wildly as Richie laughs at him.

It wasn’t that Stan hated working with Bill or Ben. It wasn’t like that at all. He had a fun time with whichever one he paired up with, and both would end up helping him get an A on the assignment. Ben and Bill where both geniuses when it came to English, which was a subject Stan struggled with.

So no, it was not that he hated working with Bill. Stan just kinda hated the fact he was not working with Richie. That the second the teacher announced partner projects, Richie’s eyes would immediately reach Eddie’s. That the only time Richie’s eyes had met Stan’s, were when Eddie was out sick, or if Eddie was mad at him.

Richie had claimed Stan as his best friend one cold September when they were both about 6 years old. And even to this day, 10 years later, when asked who his best friend was, Richie would always sling an arm around his shoulder and proudly declare, “Well that’s Stan The Man Uris, of course!”

“Why do you call me your best friend if you hang out with Eddie more?”

A jealous 12 year old Stan once asked Richie. Stan was able to cover up this question that obviously came from a place of hurt, with a more annoyed, even sounding tone. This would cause Richie to answer:

“Eddie’s different.”

For a while Stan was content with this answer. Interpreting the way that Richie felt towards Eddie as almost brotherly. That he wanted to save Eddie from his suffocating mother, to show him what fun was like, but to protect him at the same time.

As the days, weeks, and years, grew on, Stan realized how he felt towards Richie. How he’d find himself imagining scenarios involving the other boy.

Daydreaming of sitting in the park with him, trying to keep Richie quiet so he wouldn't scare off the birds. But, at the same time laughing a long to each of the jokes that came out of the boy’s trashmouth.

Or of the two in his room, with backs pressed against the floor, and eyes glued to the ceiling, listening to Stan’s record player. As Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares To You” would play, Stan wouldn't be listening. Instead too focused on Richie’s humming.

He’d imagine himself on the back of Richie’s bike, clutching onto him as he rode, just like how he once saw Bill and Beverly when they were all younger. Stan’s face on Richie’s back, feeling how warm he was.

The fairly innocent thoughts would take a turn. A turn that would soon cross the line of something that he could still call platonic.

Ones where they'd be in the hallway of Derry High, Stan would look around, to make sure they were all alone, he would then boldly put his hands on Richie’s face, bringing him into a passionate kiss.

Ones where it would be Valentines Day, where Richie would be waiting at the clubhouse, just for Stan. He’d have a bouquet of roses, Rosa Peaces, the ones with pink on the outside and yellow on the inside. Stan’s favorite. He’d imagine he’d kiss Richie once he saw these roses, that Richie would press him up against the wall. His kisses trailing lower, and lower, and lower...

While he was realizing how he felt towards Richie, he would soon also begin to realize how Richie felt towards Eddie.

Soon the daydream universe that Stan constructed in his mind, this universe where him and Richie existed- existed in love, was now plagued by the real images of everyday life.

Now when he was in bed, about to fall asleep, he couldn't find himself peacefully imagining Richie showing up to his house in a prom suit, ready to take pictures anymore. All Stan could imagine was the day Ben’s mom married his stepdad. How all the losers had been invited to their wedding. How they all were in Ben’s living room, getting ready for the ceremony. Stan watched from the sofa as Eddie helped Richie with tying his tie. The way Richie’s cheeks were flushed pink, eyes trained on Eddie’s lips that moved a mile a minute, talking about how Richie wasn't allowed to execute his plan of trying to butt in while the best man was giving his speech so he could give his own speech to Ben’s step dad. Who at the time, Richie had only met twice.

Stan couldn't imagine them in a movie theater, Richie doing the cliche yawn-that-turns-into-the-arm-over-the-shoulder gimmick. Because all he could think about was when he sat in the middle of Richie and Eddie during Aladdin and how Richie had moved to the empty seat next to Eddie, so he could “steal Eddie’s popcorn”. Eddie had pointed out how Stan had a bucket as well, Richie argued that Eddie put way more butter on his, so it probably tasted better.

Stan couldn't imagine the thought of taking Richie to the kissing bridge anymore, of carving their initials with Stan’s Swiss army knife he got for his 15th birthday. Because while walking to the clubhouse, every time he is met with the image of the initials R + E carved on the old wood.

Stan would now find himself think about something different, something that brought him a lot less joy then the thoughts of prom, and kissing and Valentine's day. He thought about the answer that Richie had given to him when they were 12.

“Eddie’s different.”

Why was he different? Was it the fact that Eddie liked the same comics as him? Was it the fact that he matched Richie’s energy? That he was just as loud and outgoing as Richie, just in his own way? Was it because he didn’t iron all his clothes like some grandma, or take pleasure in said ironing? Was it because he had more exciting interests? Was it because he didn’t get exhausted after hanging out with other people for more than 3 hours? Was he funnier? Was he stronger? Was he more handsome?

Stan loved Eddie, he was a great person and an even greater friend. And even after everything, Stan never found himself wondering: why him, why not me?  
His thoughts had been more along the lines of: of course it’s him, why would you even think it would be you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been feeling this a lot recently 🙃 except the i was dating the girl that wasn’t in love with me *crying laughing emoji*


	3. How My Mother Raised Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title if from the song ‘Your Best American Girl’ by Mitski!! 
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Eddie’s POV for this series 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/6LVocmSMnTueBGLMvQ1YSx?si=oyL7BsVZQNefhO3Sm1HBtg

Eddie Kaspbrak wonders to himself at night, staring at the patterns in his popcorn ceiling, if his mother is right. Is she really the only person capable of loving someone like me? 

Eddie is 16, and the more he thinks, the more nothing makes sense. His mom doesn't love him, she wouldn’t treat him the way she does if she did. But why would she be so protective over him if she didn't? Does she just wants to control him, keep him captive with chains made out of the fear of anything else. Or does she genuinely care, is she genuinely the only person who could love him? 

Eddie closes his eyes. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. 

Eddie lays awake often, contemplating this. Staring blankly in the shower, letting the hot water run down his tan back, he contemplates this then too. He walks home from school, eyes trained on each step his sneakers make, he contemplates this then as well. 

She runs a hairbrush through his brown curls, she’ll gell it back, making sure no strand of hair is out of place for his ninth grade school photo. She’ll whisper in a soothing voice, how boys like him are only meant to be loved by their mothers. How no one else would ever be fit to take care of such a needy boy. You're a handful, she says. 

In that moment, Eddie is ashamed about how his mind wanders to Richie. He imagines him brushing his hair like this. Despite hating every word his mother says, he agrees with her. Richie would never want to deal with someone like you. And even despite knowing this, Eddie imagines a world where Richie would want to. He imagines that Richie loves him the way he loves him.

That boy had a grip on Eddie’s heart and he squeezed it hard, over and over. He’d squeeze and squeeze until Eddie just couldn’t take it anymore, till he was at his limit, till he almost grabbed that hand around his heart, relocated that hard squeeze to his own hand, interlocked his fingers with it- and then Richie would go hang out with Stan. 

It was like a scene from an action movie. Where the bomb was counting down from 60 minutes. How it would tick and tick away, the numbers growing closer and closer to 0. But at 1, the wire would be cut. It was a relief. But in a way you wouldn’t admit, you desired for it to go to 0. Eddie couldn’t understand how Richie found it in himself to do that to him. To make Eddie feel as if he was going to explode from that feeling that would bubble up all the way into his throat. 

Richie would subconsciously stroke Eddie’s arm with the tips of his fingers, slow and steady, while Mike talked on and on to the group about his day on the farm. Eddie tried to pay attention to his friend’s story, but all he could think about was Richie sitting next to him. Fingers dancing across his arm. From the corner of Eddie’s eyes he could see the taller boy staring at him, eyes trained to the side of his face. 

It made Eddie want to scream. To hunch over, grip his hair, and let out an ear piercing scream. All he wanted to do was to grab Richie, and touch every single inch of him. Have Richie touch every single inch of him. He wanted to feel Richie’s long fingers, his slow steady touch everywhere. He wanted to slam his lips to Richie’s, to bury his hands in the boy’s hair, to claw at his skin. He wanted him, he wanted him so fucking bad.

Eddie would look over at Richie, then in and instant, his eyes and fingers would be pulled off of him and he would start talking to Stan. 

This made him want to scream even more. Eddie wanted from Richie so much more than a simple look and the touch of his arm, he wanted it so much it hurt. But it hurt more when he couldn’t even get that. When Eddie couldn’t even have the bare minimum of Richie’s attention. 

He teases Stan about how he got a C on the English test.

“Oh I’m sure you didn't get any better, dickmouth.” Eddie chimes in.

Richie turns back to him, “Yes I fucking did!” He practically yells. Eddie holds back a smile.

“Oh yeah what did you get then?”

“B plus!” 

“No, you didn't!” 

“Yes I fucking did, bitch! Bill, back me up.”

Bill rolls his eyes.

“I’m not getting i-involved in a-anything you t-two are talking about.”

Richie’s eyes come back to Eddie, ready to argue some more. Eddie tried his hardest to hold back another smile.

Eddie paces around his room thinking. Maybe, maybe, maybe, Richie could love me the way I love him. Maybe Richie felt that same shake of the throat, hummingbird heartbeat, static fingers, when they touched.

Eddie thinks back to what his mother had said. He wonders if it would apply to Richie. He already puts up with all Eddie’s bullshit, he could handle him right?

He puts up with Eddie when he’s at his peak of hyperactivity. When nothing feels right but to move and talk and yell. With everyone else, Eddie can feel himself become increasingly more and more annoying. Even with Bill, his oldest friend, Eddie notices how his friend’s smile begins to fade as Eddie’s voice gets louder and louder. 

The louder and more excited Eddie gets, the more Richie does as well. He laughs and smiles as everything the shorter boy does becomes faster and more rushed. After almost every movie, Eddie will be so pent up with energy, he’ll start running and yelling as soon as the credits begin to roll. The other losers will be back a few steps as they all make their way to the clubhouse, except Richie. He’ll jog lightly to keep up with Eddie’s intense power walking, listening to him ramble about the movie they all had just watched.

Richie has only ever once got mad at Eddie for being too much, but Eddie still think about it to this day.

They were both 14. Richie had dark circles under his eyes and instead of his usually bright colorful choice of clothing he had on gray sweats and a dirty mtv t-shirt. He was quieter than usual, Eddie had wondered if he even slept that night. 

Things had also been awkward between the two of them for a little while. A few weeks ago Richie had been dared to kiss Eddie at a game of truth or dare. While they both tried laughing it off, it was very clear both of them hadn’t in fact laughed it off.

It was after school in the treehouse, Eddie remembers how they had been there with Bill, Bev, and Mike. He remembers how Richie and Bev were nursing cigarettes, filling the room with smoke. They sat on the floor, long legs crossed. Bill had climbed into the hammock besides Eddie. Eddie rocked the hammock back and forth causing Bill to laugh. Bill then knocked him out of the hammock, causing Eddie to scream out.

Combined with that tension and Richie’s seemingly sleepless night, Richie ended up yelling at Eddie for annoying him. As Eddie laid laughing on the ground under the hammock, Richie put down his comic, scrunched up his face, and spat out: “Can you shut the fuck up? You arent being funny, you’re fucking annoying.”

Eddie had immediately froze in his spot. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have yelled back. Screamed in their faces about how they had a stick up their ass. But looking into Richie’s narrowed eyes made the brunette boy’s throat tighten up. Without his consent, tears began to well up in Eddie’s big eyes. 

Eddie could tell that Richie had immediately regretted everything he said.

“Eddie, I-“

Eddie got up and ran out of the clubhouse. He wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt as he bike back to his house.

Richie tried calling him 15 times that night, Eddie let the phone ring. The next morning he showed up at Eddie’s locker with a spoon and a small pint of peanut butter chocolate ice cream, his favorite flavor. Eddie smiled, he couldn’t have stayed mad at Richie if he tried.

Eddie wondered if Richie could love someone like him forever, or if he would get tired like he did that day. If after a while he’ll finally realize how much of a burden Eddie really was. 

He’ll get tired of helping Eddie look for where he left his inhaler last. He’ll get tired of following him as he biked to the nearest restroom to wash his hands, because he accidentally fell and his clean hands touched the ground. He’ll get tired of waiting for Eddie to take ten minutes to read and reread the ingredients in every snack before he buys it at the store.

Eddie scrunches up his face, tosses to the other side of his twin bed, and buries his face into his pillow. If Richie can’t love him, Eddie doesn’t think he wants anyone else to. Maybe his mother is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in second person POV but I decided to change it since it really didn’t fit all together


	4. I’m Working Hard On Walking Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song ‘Backwards Walk’ by Frightened Rabbit
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Richie’s POV from this series 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5Q56inkD7z4lkA7SExA0TC?si=FSBcR-RTSHi_LOR9Y24bcg

Richie is 16 and things are fine. He has great friends, great parents, he’s doing alright in school for once, and the eczema outbreak on his ass that he had last week is starting to clear up. He’s content and he doesn’t push for more.

He shoves down his wants, instead trading them in for the things he already has. The gnawing in his gut still hurts almost everyday. But the older he gets, the easier it is to keep it at bay. The older he gets the more he learns about himself, the things he aches for, and how to distract himself from it.

He doesn’t go to the movies with Eddie alone anymore, doesn’t even let himself sit in the seat beside him. The desire to clench onto the boys hand when Richie notices he’s scared is one of those wants he was talking about. So he doesn’t allow that of himself anymore. he’ll sit next to one of the other losers, it’s still fun, and it isn’t tempting.

When they have sleepovers, Richie doesn't sleep in the same bed as Eddie anymore. They’d have slept back to back, but it was still too much for Richie. Feeling the warmth of his best friends body on his back would turn into thoughts of Eddie rolling over and pressing said warmth against Richie. Of one small arm wrapped around Richie’s waist. Of a delicate face pressed into his shoulder, drooling (Eddie drools in his sleep).

He doesn't walk Eddie home at night anymore, he now walks with Stan instead. And Eddie with Bill. This was one of the first things to go, since it was the most prevalent. Walking bikes together down the orange lit sidewalk, Richie and Eddie would talk about everything and nothing at all. He’d walk Eddie up to his door each night, and each night Eddie would say in a small soft voice, “Night, Richie.” It physically hurt not to kiss him. An anxious itch, that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried.

So when Prom came, Richie was enthusiastic about going stag with all the losers. He knew he wouldn’t be asked and that was fine, because he didn’t want to be. And he didn’t want to ask anyone either. He didn’t care about romance, or dancing, or any of the things that goes along with taking a date to the prom.

And if Richie could be seen, with a longing look as he watched Bev and Ben in the store picking out which color theme that the two would have for their outfits, he’d say he just also really liked the color tangerine.

“I got asked to prom yesterday.” Eddie suddenly brings up in between bites of his whole wheat (ew) turkey sandwich.

Richie couldn’t describe how he felt, how that sentence made something in his stomach twist. And how that twist hurt more than the time he was 12 and Bill punched him in the dick for payback of punching him in the dick. He couldn’t describe the burning feeling he felt, but he knew it hurt, really really really bad.

“Record scratch!” Bev exclaimed.

“W-who asked you?”

“Jessie Burns, she made me a cake to ask me. She told me she didn’t want to wait around for me or any other guy to ask her, so she just did it herself.” Eddie explains to the group.

“What did you say?” Richie asks, he tries to make it sound like that’s the only thing his mind has been screaming since Eddie brought up the discussion.

“I said yes.” Eddie states. That isn’t the answer Richie wanted or expected. Richie was quiet, not knowing how to form his next sentence. Eddie looked at him questioningly.

“That’s great, Eddie!” Ben chimed in.

“Why did you say yes?” Richie asks, going back to the question at hand.

“No one else asked me. She’s pretty and nice so that’s a plus.” Eddie states.

“Quick!” The idiot part of Richie’s brain yells, “This hurts too much, make a joke!!”

“Wait a minute, Eddie, isn’t she like two inches taller than you?” Richie laughs, “You’re totally going to have to stand up on your tiptoes to kiss her!”

“Oh shut up.”

“Oh my god, do you think she’s going to lead when you guys dance?” Richie fully realizes his tone is turning more cruel, he also fully realizes how genuinely angry Eddie is getting. He realizes this, but he doesn’t stop there.

“She’s probably going to buy you a corsage. Oh and are you guys going to have matching outfits? Match your baby blue dress with her ti-“

“YOU ARE A FUCKING DICK!” Eddie yells. The lunch room goes silent, heads turning to watch this debacle.

Eddie stands up, taking his tray and leaves angrily. Eddie has always been one for the dramatics, but Richie knows he really, really, really fucked up.

“Why did you do that, Richie?” Bev asks, angrily as well.

“I don’t know.” Richie mumbles into his sandwich. But he knew well enough.

——

Eddie avoids Richie like the plague after that, and Richie doesn’t push.

Richie allows himself to wallow in the misery of Eddie having a date to the prom and that Eddie now hates his guts.

Maybe this is better, Richie thinks. If Eddie hates you, he won’t hang out with you. And if Eddie doesn’t hang out with you, you won't be tempted anymore.

Richie tries to think whenever he’s feeling depressed about Eddie, which is everyday now: This is for the best.

Did you think you were just going to live like this forever? Spending everyday consumed with the desire to reach out and touch him? Did you think Eddie would never find someone? Get a girlfriend? Get married? Did you really think you’d just sit there, watch that happen, and let yourself feel the same soul crushing misery you felt when Eddie told you he had a date?

This is for the best. Richie reasons. You had to cut this off at some point.

——

A month passes by of Richie and Eddie not talking. It’s now one week before prom.

It’s been really tense between all of the losers with Richie and Eddie fighting. This has happened before, with teenage hormones all of the losers have gotten into tiffs with each other before. But, all their problems will eventually work themselves out. They all love each other, and none of them can really find it in themselves to stay mad for much longer.

This time is different. Richie is obviously the one that needs to go out of his way to apologize to Eddie. But he doesn’t, he had to cut it off at some point. No matter how much it hurt.

Almost all of the losers have tried talking to him, and tried convincing him to just apologize already. That whatever weird reason that Richie was being so stubborn about this was stupid. That this was the dumbest thing Richie could do that would ruin their friendship.

He doesn’t apologize. Apologizing would entail becoming friends with Eddie again. And becoming friends with Eddie again would probably entail hearing Eddie having to talk about Jessie. Talk about how sweet she is, how beautiful she is, how Eddie is planning on buying her a bouquet of sunflowers for prom.

Richie forces himself to think about that every time he finds himself missing Eddie’s company. Thinks about Eddie showing up to Jessie’s house in his prom suit. Beautiful Eddie with his hair slicked back, with traces of cologne he tapped on his neck, And with a bouquet of Richie’s favorite flowers. He thinks about Eddie standing on his tippy toes… to kiss Jessie. Thinks about him giving her those flowers. About her face breaking out in a smile when she sees them. Of her kissing him again and again and again and a-

Having to see this will hurt way more then whatever you are feeling right now, Richie.

So he doesn’t apologize.

——

It’s three days before prom that Richie hears a tap on his window. It’s 11 pm and Richie is already in his pajamas finishing the last of his English homework.

At first he thinks he’s imagining it, he goes back to his work. But then he hears it again, this time way more aggressive.

With raised brows he goes over and opens the blinds. Eddie’s there.

Richie wants to close the blinds as quick as possible, to run and hide in the bathroom until Eddie goes away. He wants so badly to do that.

But he doesn't. He instead opens the window for Eddie to climb in.

Eddie hops down into his room, dusting the dirt off his clothes from the tree he had to climb to get up here.

“Hey.” Eddie says. Richie’s heart pounds.

“Hey.” Richie replies, like he couldn’t care less.

They both stare at each other, for a solid 10 seconds. Both waiting for the other to start talking. Eddie breaks this silence.

“It’s been a fucking month, you need to apologize to me.” Eddie states.

“I’m not apologizing.” Eddie is angry now.

“Why the fuck not?” He asks.

“What I said was a joke, you should learn to take one.” Richie simply says, going back to his desk to finish his homework like Eddie isn’t even there.

Eddie is silent, he watches Richie is disbelief.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so mean.” Eddie says in the softest most hurt tone Richie could ever imagine. Richie wants nothing more to scoop Eddie up in his arms, to kiss each and every inch of the smaller boys face. To hold and cradle him until the pain that Richie caused him goes away.

But he doesn’t , he doesn’t allow himself to do that. Instead he says nothing, pretending to do his homework.

Eddie sits on the bed. “I’m not going until you tell me why you’re doing this.” He states.

“I already told you, I have nothing to apologize for.” Richie replies.

“You obviously do and you know it. When you said those things you weren’t being funny, you were purposefully trying to hurt me. And it did hurt me. And it’s hurting me even more that you won’t apologize for it.”

“Well maybe you should leave then, if I’m hurting you so bad.” That comment is like a spear to Eddie’s heart, but he doesn’t back down.

“Whenever I would tell you that one of your jokes hurt my feelings, you’d always apologize for it immediately and then go get me ice cream, Richie. I want my apology and I want my ice cream and I want to go back to the way things were.” Eddie rushes out in a shaky voice, tears are now threatening him to spill out.

Richie says nothing. Things can’t go back to the way they were. When Richie would live everyday aching to be closer and closer and closer to Eddie.

They also couldn’t go back to the way Eddie makes him so overwhelmingly happy. To the hours of nonsensical conversation. To belly ache laughters. To that comforting feeling of Eddie just being in the same room as him.

Richie couldn’t go back to being happy if he doesn’t apologize. But he’d have to go back to the hurt of wanting.

Richie is now faced with two paths that ultimately lead to pain either way. He now has to decide what pain is worse. He really can’t.

“Say something!” Eddie whisper screams.

“Eddie I-“ He stops himself. Is this the right choice?

“Say something or I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Ever.” Eddie persists.

What do I pick? What can I pick? What’s easier? What hurts less?

“Say something, say something, say something.” Eddie grows more and more desperate.

Richie begins to sob.

Violent sobbing. Richie doesn’t think he’s ever cried so hard before in his life. Face in his palms, hunched over his desk. He tries to stop, but he can’t. Tears coming so fast before he can even think about it.

Eddie stands in shock, watching as his best friend cries.

“Richie-“ Eddie reaches out for him, Richie gets out of his chair to move away.

“Just go!” Richie yells.

“Rich, please.” Eddie pulls the boy into his arms. Richie tries his hardest to push him away. Eddie tries just as hard to keep him in his arms.

Richie finally crumbles. Everything in him that has told him to run and hide, to fight it, to suppress it. Finally crumbles. He can’t even find himself to think “it’s gay that you’re crying. And it’s even more gay that you’re allowing Eddie to hold you like this.”

Richie grabs on to Eddie, having to bend down to shove his face into Eddie shirt.

Eddie pulls them onto the bed, cradling Richie’s shaking form.

In between sobs Richie finally vocalizes what he’s been keeping inside him all these years.

“I love you so much, Eddie. I’m so in love with you. It hurt so much. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

Eddie gasps at this, holding him tighter.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Richie hiccups.

Eddie takes Richie’s wet, red, sobbing face into his hands. He smashes their lips together. It’s so desperate, years of wanting and waiting coming down to this one kiss. Eddie kisses him so hard it hurts. But its like a weight has been lifted off Richie’s chest. It’s finally getting the thing he’s craved for years and years. Richie kisses him back with just as much force.

Eddie pulls apart. Bringing their foreheads together. Both of them breathing heavy.

“Richie i love you more than anything in this world. I love you so fucking much.”


	5. Where We’re Just Kids In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song ‘Kids In The Dark’ by bat for lashes
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Eddie’s POV for this series
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/6LVocmSMnTueBGLMvQ1YSx?si=oyL7BsVZQNefhO3Sm1HBtg

As Eddie and Jessie walk down the steps of her house to the car, Eddie anxiously lets her know:

“Hey, so I should have probably told you this before, and not on prom night but… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

Jessie blinks at him.

“This is a recent occurrence! I wasn’t dating someone when you asked me or anything! Like, this happened three days ago.”

Jessie lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Is it Richie?” She asks, getting into the driver's seat. She smooths out the wrinkles in her velvet red dress as she sits down.

Eddie lets out something in between a laugh and a mock offended gasp.

“I-whu-whaa-?”

“Three days ago you started hanging out with Richie again. And now you’re telling me you’re dating someone now? Either you’re dating Richie or you had a very busy Wednesday.”

“I- yeah. Yeah I am… dating Richie.” Eddie fiddles with his tux sleeves.

Jessie lets out another annoyed sigh as she starts up the car. “You’re real lucky I’m such a romantic, Eddie. Or else I would be really pissed.” She states. “Can we still take pictures together at prom? My parents are expecting photos.”

“Um-i-uh- Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Of course!... you really aren’t mad?” Eddie asks wearily.

“Nah. To be honest, I kind of just asked you so my parents would see that I was going with a nice boy and wouldn’t be suspicious of what Iwas doing after. That is going to an even cooler party with my friends.” Jessie explained. Eddie was both flattered and offended. Flattered that he was seen as a nice boy, offended that he was seen as too nice of a boy to go to a cool party.

“That’s fine. And true.” Eddie laughs.

“I could get you in if you want- to the party. You and your friends. It’s supposed to be pretty sweet.” Jessie states.

Eddie thinks for a moment.

“No. I think I’m fine. I kind of think I want to be alone with Richie tonight.” Eddie tells her.

“Okay good, you would have embarrassed me anyways.” Jessie tells him. Eddie lets out a loud laugh at this.

——

After photos, Eddie and Jessie go their separate ways. Jessie wishes him luck with Richie, Eddie wishes her luck with her party. This worked out way better than he expected.

Eddie finds his friends sat around a table, drinking punch and eating snacks.

Richie's eyes light up as he sees Eddie. Eddies stomach does backflips and his heart races.

“What are you bozos doing just sitting around?”

“Eddie! I thought you had a date?” Ben asks him.

Now probably wasn’t the right time to tell the gang how he was gay and now dating his life long best friend.

“We had some differences we just couldn’t work out.” Eddie explained. Richie smirked at this.

“Sorry to hear that, Eddie.” Stan said. “There’s someone out there that’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah. There is.” Eddie smiled.

——

The night passed with laughter and dancing. It was great, especially since they were able to sneak Mike into the event. The losers club rotated from dancing to terrible pop songs, to sitting around a table eating and gossiping, to stepping outside with Richie and Bev so they could smoke a cigarette.

Around 2 hours in, as they all danced to “The Boys Of Summer” by Don Henley, Richie bent down and whispered in Eddie’s ear, “Do you maybe want to get out of here?”

A huge smile broke across Eddies face as he nodded. Richie smiled back, before looking around and then planting a quick peck on the skin next to Eddie’s ear, making the shorter boy giggle.

Richie turned to the rest of the losers, he shouted over the loudspeakers, “Hey! Me and Eddie are gonna go out for a cigarette. We might not be back.”

“You’re going this soon? I thought we were going back to the club house after this?” Stan asks with furrowed brows.

“I’ll be back after. I’m gonna take Eddie home soon, Mrs. K wants him back at 10:30.” Richie shrugs.

“It’s only 9?” Stan asked suspiciously.

“I take long smoke breaks. Cmon Eds.” Richie grabbed his wrist.

“See you guys tomorrow!” Eddie says as Richie pulls him away.

“See you losers later!” Richie calls. Their friends wave their goodbyes as the two boys make their way out of the school gymnasium.

Eddie giggles as Richie moves his hand from Eddie’s wrist to interlocking their fingers. Bringing it up to his face, Richie plants a long kiss on the back of Eddie’s hand as they walk through the abandoned, dark school hallway.

Eddies giddy with excitement. This is the first time Richies held his hand outside the privacy of one of the boy’s rooms. And while, it probably didn’t count because they were the only ones there, Eddie felt as if it was another step in their new formed relationship.

“You look pretty tonight, my love.” Richie tells him. Eddie blushes.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re the pretty one.” Eddie says lovingly. It was true. Richie cleaned up quite nice. Having shaved his stubble, put on some of his father cologne, and dressed in a dark brown suit; he looked beautiful when the night began. And now with his hair tousled, sweat dripping down his face, tie undone hanging around his neck; he looked even more gorgeous than before.

“I beg to differ, dearest. Your red tie brings out the yellow in your eyes and your hair looks-“ Eddie pulls Richie down by his collar to kiss him, successfully shutting the boy up. Before Eddie realized his attraction to him, Richie being obnoxiously 5 inches taller than him was probably the bane of his existence. After his growth spurt in 7th grade, for a whole 2 months Eddie was only known as “short stack” to Richie.

But now, most of the admiring thoughts Eddie had for the boy consisted of “tall, tall, tall, big hands, tall, tall, pretty eyes, tall, tall, tall.” But, that was something he’d never admit to Richie.

Richie held Eddie’s face in those big hands, deepening the kiss. Eddie pushes him up against a locker, gripping Richie’s collar tighter. Richie smiles into the kiss, causing Eddie to smile as well.

They soon become unable to kiss, smiling so big. That was a constant problem whenever they'd be making out. Not able to contain their happiness and excitement of their new relationship. The boys would end up with foreheads pressed against each other, not being able to contain their giggling. Eddie never knew he could be this happy.

Eddie peppers kisses all over Richie’s face as “Whisper to a Scream” by The Icicle Works soon fades out and “Without You” by Mariah Carey fades in. Richie smiles softly, staring down at Eddie.

“I wanna slow dance with you, very badly.” Richie tells him.

“Let's slow dance then.”

“Not in the hallway, we’ll probably get caught.” Richie says, laughing anxiously.

“You just had your tongue in my mouth 5 seconds ago in this exact hallway.” Eddie deadpans. Richie blushes at that. Who knew the crude boy was so shy.

“Here, come with me.” Eddie grabs Richie’s hand, pulling him down the hallway.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Mrs. Evans always leaves her classroom unlocked, didn’t you know?”

Richie sputters. “O-of course I know!” He did not, in fact know.

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls Richie into the room. He guides the boys hands to his shoulders, and put his on Richie’s waist. Smiling up at him he asks:

“Do you know how to dance?”

“Of course I know!” He did not, in fact know.

“Just sway back and forth, and try not to step on my feet.” Eddie explains.

“I told you I already know!”

They sway to the muffled sound of Mariah Carey’s voice. This would be one of the few moments of the boys relationship that Richie was completely silent, and they would go on to be together for 60+ years so that was saying a lot.

If Eddie didn’t already know how much he loved Richie, he definitely knew now. Eddie pressed his face into his shoulder, breathing in deeply. He smiled for probably the 100th time tonight.


	6. You’re Too Old To Be So Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song “Candles” by Daughter! 
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Stan’s POV includes this song
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5nSJdUQLEJyzjjL8UFuQfH?si=hsvhmqOGS3GhejGlnIF7fQ

Stanley Uris attends his first High School party when he’s 17, he didn’t end up attending another one after that.

A couple weeks before that night, Bill told the losers about what Mike had told him last night on the phone.

“Wooo, go Mikey.” Bev says with a mouthful of school lunch styled mac and cheese in her mouth.

“Tina Brown really wants Mike to come to her halloween party? No joke? I feel like this a total set up.” Eddie argues.

“M-mike said s-she sounded pretty sincere, that she had noticed mike a few t-times at the lib-bary. And, she thought he w-w-as really c-cute.” Bill smiles at the thought.

“Is Mike going to bone her now?” Richie asks, while in the middle of pouring his milk into the green beans on his tray that he didn't eat, which Eddie gags at the sight of.

“N-no! He said he agreed to g-go b-because it sounded fun, and she s-s-said he could b-bring f-f-friends.”

“Wait, we’re going too?” Stan asks.

“H-He S-said she s-said we could.”

“Dude! That’s fucking tight! I’ve never been to a party before!” Richie exclaims.

“Literally no shit, you should never been invited to a party, not even if it's your own birthday.” Bev laughs.

“Beverly, I promise to you, at that party I will steal away all the attention because of how sexy I will look. That combined with all the alcohol Ben will be drinking, he will turn gay and then fall in love with me. I will marry him just to spite you.” Richie states, then taking a bite of the milk infused green beans, Eddie gags again.

“Its true Bev, I can already feel the effects.” Ben says, Bev rolls her eyes at them both.

~~~~

So the losers prepared for that night; picking out costumes, convincing their parents that they were all just going to be hanging out at the clubhouse that night, and telling Mike “yes it would be polite to bring a bottle of sparkling cider to a party, if it was any kind of party other than a High School Halloween party.”

The time had finally come after that week of planning. The losers now all stood in Richie’s bedroom, helping one another into their costumes.

Stan was dressed in his costume he went in the previous year: Luke Skywalker. It was simple, comfortable, and took the hassle out of having to decide on another costume, and then go buy it.

Ben and Bev had decided to do a matching couples costume, something that all the other losers groaned at. They dressed up as Danny and Sandy from grease. It was amusing seeing soft, shy, sensitive Ben, try to take over that John travolta personality. It was even more amusing to see Bev dressed up as Sandy, who in the movie was shorter than Danny, stand about 5 inches taller than him.

Bill had arguably the funniest costume. From the book To Kill A Mockingbird, Bill was dressed in the ham costume that Scout wore, except with added arm holes so he would “be able to hold his drinks.” Which didn’t make much sense to Stan, the costume didn’t have a hole for the mouth. Where would the drink go after he took a sip?

Eddie and Mike both went as vampires. Mike had probably pulled it off a lot better than Eddie, who looked fairly dorky with his fake teeth, slicked back hair, and popped collar on his 5’5 frame. Mike made the cartoonish vampire trope seem almost… sexy, compared to Eddie. That didn’t matter to Richie though, he still pinched the shorters boy’s cheeks and exclaimed, muffled by his cheap rubber Michael Myers mask, “Cute, cute, cute!!”. Stan wondered if maybe he really should have bought a new costume this year.

~~~

The party was hectic, from the second he stepped inside, Stan knew this would be too much for him. Music way too loud, people way too close, room way too warm. As the losers filed in one by one through the narrow doorway, Stan felt suffocated by his surroundings.

Mike set down a steady hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him. Mike understood him in this way, the feeling of needing to be alone. The feeling of just wanting to be inside your bed, away from situations like these.

The losers and him still made their way through to the kitchen despite Stan feeling as though he didn’t belong to exist here, in this location, and this moment. Tina Brown lead them to the dining room table covered in bottles of alcohol and surrounded by drunk teenagers. Without asking, she handed each of them a red solo cup, and poured vodka and orange juice inside.

Stan hadn’t planned to drink, Stan isn’t too sure what he had planned for tonight. His friends came, so he came, but what did he wish to gain from it. What was the point of coming to a party, where all you did was dance and drink, if you didn’t plan on dancing or drinking?

Maybe that’s why he drank, to feel he had a purpose for being here, that he wasn’t just a tag along to his friends, that he could have fun in the way normal people had fun. Not in his way. Or maybe he drank because the first thing Eddie did was chug his drink, which caused an uproar in Richie, which caused them both to see who can drink more and who can drink fastest.

Whatever the reason for drinking was didn’t matter too much after he started. It tasted foul, just as he would expect. Like gasoline mixed with orange juice, just as he would expect. It felt warm going down, like a lit match in his chest. It felt good. So he drank some more. And some more.

He drank till he felt comfortable with the dancing aspect of parties. When Bev reached out a hand for Stan to join the rest of the losers dancing, Stan accepted with a smile.

So he danced, giggling at each loser’s moves. He danced like no one was watching. He had fun like he was the only one in the room. He didn’t feel that weight of being here when he arrived anymore.

~~~~

After about an hour Stan found himself sitting on a couch with Mike, Bev, and Ben surround him. He felt as if he was melted there, like candle wax that dries as it dripped down. His hands were unclenched and his shoulders slouched. As much as he felt good physically, the alcohol in his bloodstream soon turned his bubbly, fun, happy emotions into something more blue. Where he once felt like thick melted chocolate chips in a saucepan, he now felt like a panting man walking through the desert. Unable to control his movements heavy movements.

As Mike and Bev talked amongst themselves about something Stan could not quite hear, Stans drooped as he stared out into space. He felt numb, but he felt everything. He thought about everything, but nothing at all. Ben could pick up on this.

“Hey, Stan?” Ben was sat in front of him, leaning against the couch, he placed a hand on Stan’s knee.

“...huh?” Stan turned his head to look down at Ben.

“Are you okay?” Ben laughs.

Stan shakes his head no, it’s the truth, but he doesn’t understand why he said it.

“Do you feel sick or something?” Bens eyebrows furrowed.

“N-no I just…… I think I…. I’m going to go upstairs and lay down.”

“Okay, just come down and get us if you need anything.” Ben smiles. Bev and Mike tell him they hope he feels better, and with that, Stan makes his way up the staircase.

Knocking shoulders with random people and bumping into walls and corners didn’t last too long until he found his first door to try. Of course it was locked. He tried the second to the right. It was also locked. The third one had opened, but it was a closet.

The turned the handle for the forth. The room was preoccupied already. Stan sharply inhales. Stuck in the doorway with a hand on the knob. Richie and Eddie were on the bed. Richie’s mask lay down besides the two as they made out. Eddie straddling Richie’s waist with his hands running through his hair.

Eddie and Richie looked up at the noise. Eyes widening at Stan in the hallway.

Richie let’s put a relieved sigh when seeing Stan. Stan doesn’t think he's breathed yet.

“Eddie, I thought I told you to lock the door.” Richie rolls his eyes.

“Um you specifically said you w-“ Stan closes the door. He makes his way downstairs. Bill calls out to him as Stan swings open the door and walks out, slamming it shut.

~~~

The bike ride to the clubhouse had been hard, mixed with Stan intoxication and the tears fogging up his eyes, he almost crashed twice. When he got there he immediately threw down his bike on the dirt and climbed down the clubhouse ladder.

Stan didn’t bother putting on the shower cap, he didn’t care if spiders got in his hair this time. He sat down on one of the crates the losers used as chairs. He puts his head into his hands and sobbed.

He always knew it was there, always knew it was real. Why was he crying now? Why did it hurt so much now?

Tears kept falling a falling, Stan just sat there, letting himself feel. Until he heard the latch of the door open. He quickly stood up, wiping away his tears, make it seem as if he wasn’t just crying.

Bev comes down. And closes the door.

She takes a look at him, a good hard look at him, and opens her arms.

Stan trembles as he walks forward into her. Letting Bev curl her arms around his body. As soon as his face finds its way into the crook of her neck, he starts sobbing once more.

“I know, Stan, I know.”

In between hiccups he says, “I want him to love me.” She hugs tighter.

“That doesn’t matter right now honey, just focus on breathing. That’s all that matters right now.

So he focuses on that, breathing.


	7. Sleep On The Floor, Dream About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song “anthems for a seventeen year old” (lol very fitting) by broken social scene
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Stan’s POV includes this song
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5nSJdUQLEJyzjjL8UFuQfH?si=hsvhmqOGS3GhejGlnIF7fQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ: so in this fic Stan drinks to deal with his unrequited crush on richie. This is taken from a lot of my own personal experience with drug and alcohol abuse when I was 15, and I want to make it clear that in no way shape or form am I implying that getting rejected will lead you to abusing alcohol. Alcoholism is an unhealthy coping mechanism of dealing with sadness and pain in your life and I want to make sure that I get across that Stan is not drinking because he got rejected, Stan is drinking because he is sad and doesnt know how to deal with it. Also i want to make it clear, neither Eddie or richie should be seen as bad guys and are no way responsible for Stan drinking. While seeing Eddie and richie together is a catalyst for Stan starting to drink more; stan is not just drinking because ‘richie doesnt love him back’. A lot more aspects come into play like the desire to be wanted and also seeing yourself as unworthy and undesirable.  
Also sorry if this seems ooc, idk i just like adding weird nuances to characters and i also love projecting my struggles onto stan cuz i relate a lot to him and i also headcanon him as a Virgo sun cancer moon like me lmao anyways into the fic!!!!! Ty for reading it means a lot kisses

When Stanley Uris first drank, he was 11.

Like most kids, the first time he drank was at a family dinner with his relatives. A small glass of wine, nothing to get him drunk, nothing to get him feeling any sort of way other than just on the edge of feeling tipsy.

It was after his aunt saw him awkwardly sitting on the couch after dinner, not having enough courage to go play with his cousins, she loudly told his mom: “Andrea! Get your boy a glass of wine! This kid is stiff as a board!” Stan was mortified by this, having all his cooler cousins turn around and stare, finally acknowledging that he was there.

His mom thought for a second before deciding:

“Stanny, come here.” His mom called him. He came, walked into the kitchen where his mom had been. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured a small amount of red wine from the bottle the adults had been passing around. She held the glass out for Stan.

“Do you want some? You can have this.” She told him. Stan thought for a moment, then took the glass, staring down at the dark crimson liquid.

He took a drink. It was one of the foulest things he had ever tasted before in his life. It was bitter and made his face twist the second it hit his tongue. It tasted akin to what he’d imagine gasoline would taste like. It was gross. But he drank more as his aunts, uncles, and cousins stared at him.

“Can I have a glass too, mom?” Stan’s 14 year old cousin, Andy, asked.

“No honey. Alcoholism runs in the family, I don't want you starting now.”

“How come Stan gets to drink then?”

“Stanley’s a good boy. He’s responsible.”

——

When Stanley Uris first got drunk, he was 12.

It was December, one week before Hanukkah.

After school while walking home Stan was cornered by an especially angry Henry Bowers.

Henry grabbed the boy by the hair and shoved his face into the icy snow while calling him a ‘filthy jew’.

Stan went home with blood, snow, and tears streaming down his face.

He was lucky neither of his parents got home until 6. Stan really didn’t feel like explaining to either of his parents why he looked the way he did. He didn’t want his mom’s pity hug and he didn’t want his dad angrily calling up the school.

All Stan wanted was to be alone. He wanted to put a hot towel on his face, and he wanted to be alone.

When he finally arrived at the Uris’s house he didn’t even bother hanging up his backpack or jacket, just simply throwing them down on the couch and running into the kitchen.

He got the water as hot as possible and soaked up one of the kitchen towels with it. He put his face in the towel, it burned like a mother fucker. Such cold skin touching something hot always felt painful, but he kept pressing. It would soon start to feel better, soothing Stan’s small cuts and cold nose.

Stan sighed into the towel once more and then set it down on the countertop.

He was caught between the desire to be somewhere different, and the desire to be someone different. Maybe one day it will get better, but it certainly isn’t looking to great right now to be the kind of person he was in the kind of place he was in.

Stan’s eyes fell upon his parents liquor cabinet. He remembers that family dinner last year, that glass of wine he was allowed.

He remembers the feeling drinking gave him. How everything in that moment felt less heavy, how he felt light. How that constant feeling of dread felt less. How that looming cloud over his head felt a little less dark grey and instead more of a watered down grey.

He pulls out a bottle of vodka. He grabs a shot glass and pours himself a shot like how he’d seen in the movies.

It smelled so much worse than wine, and when he threw it back, it tasted much worse too.

He hurried to grab a glass and fill it with tap water. The water was still hot from prior but it didn’t matter, he’d do anything to get that taste out of his mouth.

After a solid minute of washing down the taste, Stan leaned back, processing how he currently felt. That one shot felt better than that entire glass of wine he had when he was 11.

Stan eyed the bottle, was he really going to do that again?

He did, he downed another shot and washed it down with water.

Then he did it again.

And again.

And again.

He did it until he knew for sure he was drunk. As carefully as he could manage, he put the bottle and shot glass into the cabinet, and then he went upstairs.

Stan decided in that moment, being drunk was the best feeling in the world. It felt like a fuzzy warm blanket wrapped around his mind. It felt like every single one of his movements were filled with molten lava mixed with electricity, if that made sense to anyone.

Laying down on his neatly made bed, Stan puts in his Walkman and turns on some of The Cure. Dopey smile strung across his face, Stan wraps himself in a hug. Rubbing his arms, rocking his body side to side. Being drunk felt good, but being drunk while slowly moving felt even better.

Even in his drunken haze, Stan knew that this would be a problem for him.

——

Stanley Uris is now on the edge of 16, and all he’s been able to think about since Halloween was what he saw.

It was currently Monday, the first day back to school since the party. The first day he’ll be seeing Richie and Eddie since the party.

Bev’s has been keeping him company this weekend, coming over each day to play video games with him. Coming over to make sure he isn’t just lying in bed, thinking about what he saw.

Instead he’s playing video games, thinking about what he saw.

Bev knew everything she was doing wasn’t working that well, but it was better for Stan to be here with her then alone.

Ever since Halloween, Stan felt like he was choking. Not being able to get air in, just the constant pain of his lungs closing in on him. All he wanted was the pain to stop. As much as he appreciated Bev caring for him, all Stan wanted right now was to be alone.

——

The first half of the school day was fine. Stan liked school, he liked to learn and he liked how it distracted him from whatever he was currently feeling. He was still hurting like a mother fucker, but the constant brain stimulation eased it up. Just a bit.

Lunch was the issue. He knew that lunch would ruin the rest of his day.

When he sat down at the losers table, Eddie and Richie were already there, talking Bev and Ben. Stan placed his tray next to Bill who smiled widely at his arrival. Eddie and Richie made eye contact with him, but quickly looked away. Probably still embarrassed to have been caught drunk with each other’s tongues down their throats. Bev smiled sympathetically at Stan. Stan said nothing, just going straight to eating.

“S-s-tan, did you go home early on f-f-Friday? I didn’t see you when I l-l-left.” Bill asked.

“I went home early too! How come you didn’t notice?!” Bev asks laughing.

“I-i-i assumed y-you went w-with Ben, h-he said bye to m-m-me before leaving.” Bill explained. “U-unlike Stan, R-r-r-richie, or E-e-eddie.”

“I didn’t realize how late it was! I had to immediately leave before my mom called the police and organized a search party for me!” Eddie defended.

“Whatever. C-could have a-at least said b-bye.” Bill said smiling. “W-when d-did you leave?” Bill turned to Stan.

Stan was toying with his food, side of his face resting in his palm. He shrugged, not looking up.

“I don’t really remember. I was pretty drunk.” He lied.

“You don’t remember anything?” Richie questions sheepishly. Stan knew what he was getting at. Stan looks up.

“I remember some.” He states, Richie looks away.

“Do you remember Amy? She was totally giving you eyes all night long, dude.” Eddie chimes in.

“Whatever.” Stan says, going back to his food. God, he really doesn’t want to be here right now. He wants to be alone in his room, with his Walkman on and fireball whisky in his system.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably, Bev clears her throat.

“Did you see Bill dancing on the kitchen table, Stan?” Bev asks, Bill groans shoving his face into his hands.

This makes Stan scoff. “Really?” He asks.

“He was doing the fucking robot to Bizare Love Triangle.” Bev laughs, Bill groans even louder.

——

It was 10 pm when Stan’s parents went to bed, it was 10:15 when Stan snuck downstairs and grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

He did his regular drinking routine. Throw back some shots, return the bottle downstairs, lock the door, and put in his Walkman.

Everything felt 100 times better. The choking feeling from before was soon replaced with the melting feeling of drunkenness. He giggled to himself as the sound of Words Don’t Come Easy by Martin Cooks fills his ears.

——

20 minutes into his ‘alone time’, as he would like to call it, stan hears a knock. Then a louder knock. Then a louder one.

Stan takes off his headphones and pauses the music. The knocking is coming from his window.

He slugs over to his window to find richie outside. Stan smiles so hard his cheeks burn, he lets out a loud laugh.

“Richie!” Stan sings. Richie furrows his brows, he motions for Stan to open the window.

Stan follows Richie’s instructions, fumbling with the latch a few times before finally getting it open. With all his strength he pushes the window up for Richie to climb in. Richie proceeds to hop down into Stan’s room.

“Richie.” Stan says in between giggles, “what are you doin here?”

“Are you okay? Why are you talking like that?” Richie asks.

“I feel like a million dollars, baby.” Stan slurs. Richie soon realizes what’s happening here.

“Oh my god. Are you drunk?” Richie nervously laughs.

“Maybe.” Stan giggles.

“Why are you drunk? It’s a Monday night and you’re alone.”

“Best time to drink.” Stan throws himself down onto the bed, lying on his back. Richie hesitates before laying down next to him. Richie picks up the Walkman laying on the bed.

“What are you listening to?”

“Mix you gave me.” Stan says, closing his eyes.

“Aww you kept it? From 7th grade?” Richie smiles.

“Course i kept it.”

Richie nods. He lets silence fill the air for a moment, not sure how to ask his next question. Or what question to ask.

“You seemed distant at school today. I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m not alright.” Stan smiles. Richies eyebrows furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna talk to you about it.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me about it?” Richie’s eyebrows furrow even more, hurt by his best friend’s words.

“You don’t want to hear it.” Stan laughs. Richie slightly relaxes, maybe it just something embarrassing. Maybe Stan just keeps getting awkward erections in class.

“I do want to hear it! I want to hear whatever you are willing to tell me! Stanley, you are my best friend and I want to be here for you!” Richie exclaims.

“I don’t want to be your best friend.” Stan says. Ouch. That hurt.

“What?” Richie whispers.

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Your. Best. Friend.” Stan says over pronouncing each syllable. Richie feels as if stan just squeezed lemon juice into his cut then started repeatedly punching said cut.

“W-why not?” Richie might just cry.

“I’m in love with you.” Stan slurs.

Oh.

Oh.

“You gonna say something?” Stan asks.

This wasn’t expected.

“I- Stan- what? Why? Why are you-..?”

“Same reason Eddie is.”

What does Richie even say to that? What can he say?

“You should probably go now.” Stan tells him, finally turning to look at Richie’s shocked face.

Richies quiet before slowly nodding. He walks to the window, just before climbing out he turns back to Stan:

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? Please?” Richie asks.

“Probably not.” Stan says.

Richie says nothing, just stares at Stan before turning around.

“I’m not mad. I hope you know that Stan…. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” And with that, Richie leaves.

Stan falls asleep shortly after, with the sound of Separate Ways by Journey playing at low volume in his headphones.


	8. I Am This Great, Unstable, Mass Of Blood And Foam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I might add a few more chapters if people want it but for now I’ll have this as the end but I am more then open to adding more. 
> 
> Chapter title is the song “Autoclave” by the Mountain Goats
> 
> Check out the playlist I made for Stan’s POV includes this song
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ghostie-toastie/playlist/5nSJdUQLEJyzjjL8UFuQfH?si=hsvhmqOGS3GhejGlnIF7fQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I edited some stuff and also i want ppl to read cuz I really love this fic

The feeling of dread could easily be described as the sinking feeling Stan felt as soon as he woke up on Tuesday morning.

His head was aching, hangovers always felt like a pain of no other. That was probably the worst part about drinking. That, and the fact that drinking is what caused him to confess his romantic feelings towards his life long best friend who he knew for a fact did not return them back. That was pretty bad as well.

This was probably bound to happen eventually, Stan thought. Richie probably would have figured it out sometime soon, Richie was insanely smart despite his clear lack of common sense. But, out of all the ways his secret could have been spilled, he would not have guessed it would have been because his own doings. That he would have confessed while drunk.

It wasn’t that Stan didn’t drink a lot, he did, that was definitely something he did often. Stan wouldn’t have guessed he would have confessed drunk because he usually doesn't drink around others.

As well as most of the other things Stan did for fun, drinking was a personal activity he did alone. Getting drunk was something Stan did to relax, and Stan usually can't relax with other people around.

Stan finally got the strength to push himself out of bed and turn off the blaring alarm sat on his bedside table. He grabs the bottle of ibuprofen from the top drawer of said bedside table, and swallows two of the red tablets dry.

He hears the rattle of his locked door trying to be opened. He turns around to stare at the door, almost waiting for his mother’s angry voice to come.

“Stan, how many times do I have to tell you to stop locking this door at night.”

Stan slugs over to the door, unlocking it and turning it open. His mother stands in the doorway wearing her big fluffy rob and an annoyed face. Her frown deepens as soon as she sees her son.

“Honey, you look awful, are you okay?” She reaches up to hold a hand against her son’s forehead. Stan might have only been 5’8, but his mother was even shorter standing at only 4’11.

Stan says nothing, too exhausted and hungover to even speak.

“Honey?” She repeats.

“No. I don’t feel good.” He says in a small voice. Her frown deepens even more.

“What’s wrong, Stanley? Are you sick?” Stan says nothing, just stares at her.

He doesn't realise until his mother moves her palm onto his cheek that he was now crying. A soft stem of tears coming out of his watering eyes.

“Why are you crying?” She asks quietly.

“I’m tired. I’m really tired, mom.” Stan chokes out.

“Honey, what’s wrong why are you acting like this? What’s wrong?” She presses.

Stan doesn't know what to say. How could he even begin to describe what is wrong? Everything is wrong.

The way his brain works is wrong. The way he experiences life and emotions and happiness is wrong. The way that nothing feels good except vodka is wrong. The way he feels as if everything is just constantly pressing down on his chest and suffocating him is wrong. The way he loves is wrong. The way he loves Richie is wrong. The way that he expected anyone to ever love someone like him is wrong.

“I don’t know.” He decides on.

“What do you mean?”

“Can I go back to bed?” He asks.

His mother presses her lips together, she then nods her head.

“Okay, honey. Go get some sleep. I’ll call the school and tell them you’ll be absent today.”

Stan closes his door and heads back to his bed.

In his inventory of ‘Things that makes Stan feel good’ he has in his head, he quickly takes off Richie. Now leaving only two things: drinking and his bed.

——

Stanley Uris had a difficult time explaining the feeling of having sadness so bad that all you could do was melt into your bed. Partly to do with the fact that that sadness didn’t really even feeling like sadness. It was more numb, but not numb enough that you didn’t feel it. It was a numbness that made everything else numb as well. It felt like his brain was inside of a box made entirely out of frosted windows, if that even made sense.

As he lay in his bed, Stan replays last night over and over again.

He imagines a universe where it went differently. A universe where as soon as he uttered the phrase “I’m in love with you.”, Richie would smash his lips against Stan’s. He imagines a universe where someone wants him too.

Why couldn’t he be the kind of boy that others want? That others desired? That others liked? Why was he born the way he was? Why couldn’t he have been born more outgoing and adventurous and handsome and charismatic? Why couldn’t he have been born being capable of being loved by others?

Stan presses his face into his pillow.

Just go back to sleep.

——

Stan is awaken to a knock at his window. He slowly sits up from the comfortable dent left in his bed. He is met with the sight of Eddie tapping quickly at the glass, he’s bathed in the golden light from the setting sun. Must be real late. Or at least real late to sleep in to.

Stan considers going over to shut the blinds and then curling back up into his bed. He sighs before deciding against it, slowly he stands up and opens the window. Stan stands back so Eddie can come in.

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks.

“I didn’t open the window to tell you to fuck off, if thats what you’re asking.”

Eddie hesitantly steps in, dusting his clothes off.

“You weren’t at school.” Eddie comments.

“Nope.” Stan replies, he sits down at the edge of his unmade bed. He’s tired from this interaction already.

“Richie told me about what you said.” Eddie says quietly, sitting down next to Stan.

Stan is too tired to even be mad at this.

“He shouldn’t have.”

Eddie looks down at his hands, almost guilty. “You’re right, he shouldn’t have. That stuff is no ones business but your own. Not even Richie’s. I’m sorry.”

Stan sighs at this.

“It’s not your fault. You don't have to apologize. It’s not even Richie’s fault either.” Stan assures him, Eddie nods.

They’re both quiet for a moment. Eddie not knowing what to say and Stan having nothing to say. The silence isn’t really awkward but it’s not like the usual silence the two of them have. It’s heavy.

“Do you hate me?” Eddie asks softly.

“No, Eddie I don’t hate you.” Stan sighs yet again. While the statements true- Stan does not hate Eddie- Eddie feels as if Stan is lying to him.

That silence is back. That thick, heavy silence.

It will soon be replaced by the sound of small breathy hiccups, at this moment Stan realizes Eddie’s crying beside him.

“Wha-“ Stan starts.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t want you to hate me! I don’t want this to ruin our friendship! You're one of the bestest friends I’ve had in my entire life, Stan! I love you so much! I wish it didn’t work out like this and I’m so sorry you had to find out like this. I know how much you’re hurting once I saw Richie just TALKING to a boy and I was so hurt by THAT I have no idea how awful this must feel and I’m so sorry and-“

“Eddie, Eddie. Calm down.” Stan grabs the boy’s shoulders. Eddie stops his loud, gross sobbing to stare up at Stan.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You’re one of my best friends too.” Stan smiles despite the tears that began to prickle in the corners of his eyes. This causes Eddie to cry even harder, throwing himself into Stan’s arms.

Stan hugs him tight. Burying his face into the smaller boy’s shoulder, he lets himself cry. Stan cries for himself, for all the hurt he’s been feeling these past few years and maybe even all the hurt he’s been feeling his entire life.

Stan cries for Eddie, one of his best friends. How much hurting Stan- even if it wasn’t intentional and out of his control- hurt him.

Stan cries for their friendship. As much Stan wants to tell himself that they’ll be able to move past this, that they’ll go back to normal, they probably won’t.

As he cries he thinks about being 10 again. Before he ever drank. Before he started feeling how he did. Before he fell in love with Richie. Even before Eddie fell in love with Richie. He thinks about being 10 again, and not feeling things as heavy as he did right now.

He thinks about how he didn’t worry about feeling unlovable then. How he didn’t constantly think about the reasons Eddie got to be loved and he didn’t.

He thinks about being 10 again, how he didn’t know how good being drunk felt. And how much better it felt then what he was feeling right now.


End file.
